


Breaker of Horses

by Persephone



Series: Sons of Troy [12]
Category: The Iliad - Homer, Troy (2004)
Genre: Horses, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:58:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hector finds Paris out in the wilderness, not the safest place to be in the middle of a war, but wet and in the midst of a... party?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaker of Horses

Was Paris _wet?_

Hector lightly spurred his horse from its walk into a trot, and stared speechlessly as Paris’s form enlarged in the dusk light. There was a small blue wrap about his lean golden hips, clasped to one side with a silver brooch. And except for his silver neck and wrist jewelry, he wore nothing else. Not even sandals.

And he was indeed wet. _In the middle of the desert?_

Hector looked around at the sable colored sand dunes and emptiness about them. Well, they weren’t in a desert, just the barren valleys about three miles behind the walled city and the battlefields. But the river Scamander was miles west of them, nowhere near their location for a person on foot.

Paris was simply standing in the plain, dripping wet with his hair plastered around his face and his tiny wrap plastered around his groin, and, as Hector got closer, smiling serenely at him.

In the light of the setting sun, he was perfect. His long, lean muscles flexed in a body that flaunted the favors of a goddess, and begged to be brought under control.

Hector clenched his jaw as he felt a hard tug on his groin, and stopped his horse when it was still ten feet away from his brother.

Paris’s smile widened.

Hector’s eyes strained to stay on his face and not descend any lower. He raised his voice to cover the distance. “Should I even ask what is going on, Paris?”

Paris dropped his head, clearly trying to hide his ever widening smile, then bit down on his lower lip. Hector waited patiently until he looked up at him again from under his long lashes.

“Come closer,” Paris didn’t raise his own voice. “We should not yell at each other like barbarians.”

He stared at Paris. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Paris sighed. “We are over that dune.” He pointed.

Hector followed the direction of his extended arm and realized he heard vague sounds. Voices. It sounded like… like revelry. He spurred his horse back into a walk and turned it towards the dune. Moments later his jaw hung open.

Out in the open space was a group of young men and women in all manner of undress, frolicking around a decadently appointed oasis.

There were small tents set up in a circle around the tiny encampment, in the middle of which were huge bronze tubs of what Hector hoped was just warm water, and tables overflowing with fruits, meats, wine skins and vats. There was such a profusion of plants and flowers that Hector thought he could smell the foliage from where he sat.

He blinked in silence, foolishly trying to make sense of what he saw. It appeared that Paris had simply relocated his palace rooms to the middle of the barren plains behind their city.

Hector released a deep breath. He had hoped for a quiet, simple evening of meetings with his captains.

Fighting had stopped for the day and he had wanted to ride around their city to make sure there were no enemy movements in this area.

At first they had had random patrols to do that, but as the war dragged on and they saw that the Achaeans concentrated their efforts in the bay where their ships lay anchored, they had put the patrols to other uses.

Now of course he wondered if they had acted too soon. Then again, if the soldiers had come upon such a scene, they would have surely been done patrolling for the day.

He sighed again and turned his horse around. Paris hadn’t moved from where he stood. He just stood there running his hands down his chest and stomach, wiping the water off his body. It was a fruitless effort. He was soaked.

And getting hard.

He stopped his horse a good distance from Paris, breathing through his open mouth. He was beginning to heat. His lips had become dry but he dared not risk licking them and drawing Paris’s attention to them.

But Paris was already looking at him with dark, bottomless eyes. “It is to be a full moon tonight. And the festival of the goddess is nearly upon us.”

He began to walk towards Hector. “I saw you approaching from atop this dune, and knew all of Olympus smiled upon me this night.”

As he walked his wrap molded to every inch of his thighs, accentuating his shamelessly rising erection.

Hector strained to find his voice. “But what are you _doing_ out here?” He closed his eyes briefly at how anxious his voice sounded even to his own ears.

When he opened them Paris was standing right next to his horse. He reached up and grabbed Hector’s forearm. “Preparing ourselves,” Paris said, and placed his sandy foot on top of Hector’s leather clad one.

Instinctively, Hector’s foot stiffened, and his body braced, and Paris used that strength to propel himself up, swinging his leg over the horse’s head. He landed facing Hector on the thick fur blanket covering the horse’s back.

“Xandros, dismount! At once!”

But Paris instead shifted quickly and slid his legs under Hector’s arms. There was enough room for the two of them, nevertheless his horse skittered at the unexpected movement, and Hector’s grip tightened on the reins.

“Paris!” he barked. “My horse will bolt!” But he clamped his elbows on Paris’s thighs to hold him secure.

Paris gasped, “It is a _war_ horse, Hector,” and locked his ankles behind Hector’s back, pushing his crotch into Hector’s. His wet arms circled Hector’s torso and he pressed his chest into Hector’s armor.

“Oh, Hector,” he moaned loudly, squirming roughly against him. “It’s so… hot!”

Hector stared down in open mouthed bewilderment at Paris. He was certain the bronze of his breastplate was more than hot. It retained heat, inside and out, and would not cool properly as long as he was out in the sun.

He resolutely ignored the fact that since the sun was setting and the air cooling, its lingering heat probably felt wonderful against Paris’s wet skin.

He tried to pull himself back, away from Paris, but as long as he still held the reins he could not go back any farther.

And Paris was reaching between them and pulling aside Hector’s skirt. Hector groaned deeply, dismayed to discover that his tip was wet, having been hard since laying eyes on Paris.

He fought his unraveling mind to think of a way to drop the reins but keep the horse from bolting, and get Paris off him before Paris—

“I will kill you, Alexandros!” Hector howled as he felt Paris’s tight entrance swallow the head of his cock.

Frantically, he freed one hand and reached down between them. _To do what?_ his mind groaned at him through its haze.

At that moment Paris relaxed his body and dropped backwards unto the horse’s broad neck. Hector forgot about his original intention because Paris was going to fall off the horse if he did not catch him.

He dropped the reins completely, clamped his thighs on the horse’s flanks for balance, and reached for Paris. He swiftly pushed his arms under him and caught him by his shoulders.

And the horse shot forward.

Hector bent forward over Paris and held him tight as the wind rushed in his ears. Then the horse’s gallop slammed Paris’s hips down, forcing his cock all the way inside Paris, and Hector cried out.

Paris wailed, and gripped him, and not even in the thick of his worst battle had Hector been so overwhelmed. He could not grab the reins, he could not relax his squeeze on his horse’s flanks for fear that they would both fly off, and he could not let go of Paris for any reason at all.

His teeth ground, for even though he _would_ kill Paris, his horse was galloping too fast, and he burned to feel a steady rhythm…

They careened into the empty plain and it seemed, if possible, that Paris’s body relaxed even more in his arms. Hector suddenly felt his cock being squeezed over and over inside Paris.

“Take the reins!” he yelled hoarsely down at Paris. Paris instead threw his arms around his neck and arched his body.

This could _not_ be comfortable for Paris! But Hector knew he was in trouble because despite the racing horse Paris felt safe in his arms, and so saw no need to help alter their situation.

Hector growled down at him as loudly as he could, unable to form words in his frustration.

At last Paris dropped his arms to the sides, out of sight, and after a few moments pulled them back up, holding the reins. He pulled. Hector had enough wits about him to force his thighs to relax slightly, and the horse slowed to a canter, and then even slower to a smooth trot.

He breathed harshly down at Paris, ready to shake him senseless. But Paris’s eyes were closed, his face deeply flushed, and he was breathing softly through his open mouth. He shifted, and sank flush into Hector’s groin.

Hector’s heart slammed in his chest and his body began to shake, as if he had never been in battle, never experienced such hot blood rushing through him…

The fear of them being thrown from his horse was ebbing fast, and in its place was the realization that its trotting was bouncing Paris on his cock, setting that rhythm Hector had wanted so badly…

He groaned deeply as intense feverish heat suddenly suffused him and made him shake. He dropped his head unto Paris’s chest. Paris was mewling, pulling on the reins to keep the horse at a trot. Reins and all, he pushed his hands into Hector’s hair and freed his locks from their bindings.

Hector moaned in frustration because suddenly the steady rhythm of his horse was not enough. He wanted to pound into Paris…

He ran his hands up and down Paris’s heated back, his fingers digging into the firm flesh. Then he pushed back up and gripped Paris’s shoulders and pulled him down again and again onto his cock.

He whimpered because it was still not enough, then licked his brother’s chest, covering his nipple with his mouth and sucking wetly.

Paris cried out and arched like a strung bow under him, his body pressing into Hector’s armor. He unlocked his ankles and balanced his feet flat against the horse’s rump behind Hector. The shift spread his legs wider, and only now could Hector truly appreciate the cadence of the horse.

Hector groaned in defeat and held still, as each shift of the animal’s huge muscles under them drove Paris’s body down and then pulled it back off his cock.

“Xandros…” he groaned shakily against his will. His hands trembled so badly he dug his fingers hard into Paris’s back to gain some control. He feared he must be breaking Paris’s skin, but he could not make himself stop. And Paris was flush against his body, clinging and giving off heat everywhere.

“Does that feel good, Hector,” Paris was whispering into his ear. And licking his lobe. And sucking it into his mouth in rhythm with the horse’s movements. “Is this not a better ride…”

“You creature,” Hector rasped weakly.

Paris writhed in his arms, and bit his ear lobe.

Hector spasmed and groaned, his arms contracting around Paris’s body. He turned his head into Paris’s hot nape and mindlessly sucked on his flesh.

Paris pulled harder on the reins until the horse slowed to a walk. Then he lifted his hips and began to slide up and down on Hector’s cock, using Hector’s arms supporting his back like a sling.

Hector gripped his shoulders firmly, finally growling with satisfaction as Paris’s now sweat slicked back slid against his arms and allowed him almost flawless movement.

Paris was gasping steadily. “Say it, Hector,” he gasped. “ Say it… say it… say it…”

Hector could only growl louder, not caring what Paris wanted him to say. His mind was disintegrating at the ecstasy of having his brother riding him so lusciously… at the sound of Paris succumbing in his arms.

“Say… I am… a better ride…” Paris panted, and squeezed his muscles on Hector’s cock.

Hector’s breath rushed through his teeth. “You are… a better… _ride_ …”

“…than… riding out…” Paris bounced faster, breathed faster, his fingers tightening in Hector’s hair, “…for Troy…”

Paris rocked mindlessly on him, and Hector’s gasps tore out of him louder and harsher.

“Say it…” Paris panted roughly into his ear, “…please…”

Hector clenched his teeth tight and breathed through them, refusing to obey. He would whip Paris for this, for everything…

And Paris’s hot breath was pouring more words into his ear, but Hector no longer had the senses to understand.

He turned and pressed his mouth against Paris’s ear. “You will pay for this,” he grated breathlessly, and Paris cried out and climaxed all over his breastplate.

Hector’s stomach muscles pulled hard as Paris’s body clamped on his cock, and he groaned endlessly as he came.

For a long time, they breathed harshly against each other, Paris into Hector’s hair, and Hector against Paris’s sweat slicked chest. Paris was indeed wet again.

Hector constricted his arms when Paris made to slide off the horse. Paris looked at him and, eyes averted, Hector shook his head. He swung his leg behind and pushed off the horse.

He stood next to the horse, unconsciously stroking its neck by way of apology, and watched as Paris supported himself on the horse’s back and effortlessly turned around, so that he now faced its front.

“R-ride him back,” he said hoarsely, and flushed because he found it difficult to say the word.

“I am not about to leave you out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Do not _question,_ Alexandros.” He looked up at Paris. “ _I_ give the orders. So do as I say.”

Paris leaned forward and his hand moved to cover Hector’s, but Hector quickly dropped it to his side. Paris sat back.

“I will see you in the city tonight?”

“No. I will be staying in the fields.”

Paris laughed knowingly, and Hector looked up at him. “What a coincidence,” he smiled down. “So will I.”

 _End_


End file.
